Reunion
by Il fanatico
Summary: Tag to 7.02, Reunion. See A/N.  Thanks for all the alerts and reviews!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS or any of the characters.

**Spoiler Alert: **References to events in Season 6 and Season 7

**A/N: **Each of these chapters can be read as a story that can end with any chapter. For example, Chapter 1 could be considered a one-shot, with a decent conclusion. But Chapter 2 will continue the story, with another conclusion. And so on. REVIEWS ARE APPRECIATED!

He sits on his couch, staring blankly at the widescreen TV in front of him. A recent award-winning movie plays, but other things hold his attention.

Like that moment in the men's room. She had cleaned up, the mixed dirt, blood, and other grime scrubbed from her body, and the tangled hair brushed back into a secure ponytail. Make-up almost completely hid bruises that had yet to fully heal. But...

Somalia and the people there had taken a toll on her. The 3/4 length sleeves and long pants she wore hid the worst of her injuries. But not only did these clothes hang loosely off of bony shoulders and hips, they let some scarring on her forearms show. Her skin had lost its usual tan glow, with the make-up only worsening the fact.

She had said something about him always having her back...and he had listened to every word that came out of her mouth, he had savored the sound of her voice, savored it like he would a lover's soft kiss, but her words hadn't really sunk in...she had just looked so pale, so thin that he could barely think of anything else. He could, however, recall the sincerity in her voice as she said those words, as well as the mixed feelings in her eyes. There had been gratefulness, pain, and...regret? Sure, he had sometimes heard her _say_ that she regretted something, but he had never seen her _really_ display that particular emotion...or, recently, much of any emotion.

And then she had kissed him. Lightly, and on his cheek, but a kiss nonetheless, and one with passion.

And then he, the incompetent, insensitive, and cowardly idiot, ran out on her. He almost laughs in cynical self-hatred. Ran out on her in the most literal sense possible, for he certainly hadn't had a real outside-of-work relationship with her that he could 'run out' on.

Back to the point, sure, he had somewhat returned the gesture. He could still feel her jawbone and soft skin under his hand. But he proceeded to seize upon the idea she had given him and rush from the men's room.

Without conscious thought, he quickly stands up and grabs his car keys from the kitchen table where he had left them. He doesn't even consider the fact that he is dresses only in a too-small white T-shirt and loose sweatpants and no shoes as he heads out the door of his apartment.  
>"Tony..." a voice calls.<p>

At first, he doesn't hear the voice in his mad rush to the car. But then his sleep-deprived brain finally recognizes the voice and he quickly turns on his heel to face the figure leaning against his doorframe. He runs to her, and stops abruptly, remembering her recent ordeal.

"Ziva, I'm-" he begins to say.

"Shh," she interrupts, placing a slim figure on his lips. "I know."

When she removes her finger, he gently takes her hand in one of his and opens the door with his other hand. Stepping inside, he looks at the condition of his apartment with new eyes. The TV is still on, dishes are piled up in the sink, and various suit jackets are scattered around the living room.

"I was uh…I mean I'll just-" Unbidden, the adrenaline that has been coursing through his system is displayed in the form of nervousness. Giving up on his voice, he strides over to the couch to pick up the remote and turn the TV off, but she beats him to it, appearing in between him and the couch.

"It is fine. I would like to see it. I think you will be quoting it soon, yes?"

He has to smile at that, but does not mention that he hasn't really seen any of it bcause he had been so preoccupied worrying about their actions earlier that day.

"Do you want anything to eat? There's some pizza I can heat up real quick," he says as an answer.

"That would be nice," she replies, and only then does he notice that she is pressed against him with the couch against the back of her legs, and that he can feel her breath on his neck. An odd feeling shoots up his spine, and he acknowledges her statement by turning to the kitchenette to prepare the food.

While waiting for the pizza to heat up, his brain finally catches up to the current events, from the adrenaline rush to the moment by the couch where she had been up against him. What had she been doing outside his apartment? How long had she been there? And what on earth had he been thinking going out to see her in these clothes, and to top it all off, without shoes?

The dinging of the oven jerks him from his reverie, and he snaps into motion. Unfortunately, he has only one clean plate, but it will have to do. He grabs a pot holder and carefully removes the tray from the hot oven rack and sets it on the counter. He puts the pot holder aside, and starts to transfer the slices of pizza onto the plate, but ends up swearing under his breath when his right hand knuckles brush the bottom of the tray.

He walks silently back to the couch with the plate of food in his hand, and sees that she started the movie over. So she was serious about wanting to see the movie.  
>She had moved onto the couch and is leaning against into the corner of the couch with her head resting on the back cushion. Although she seems engrossed in the movie, some sixth sense alerts her to his approach.<p>

"Thank you," she says when he sits down on the other side of the couch. They eat and watch the beginning of the movie in companionable silence until the pizza is gone.

Then they remain that way until she speaks.

"I should have helped," she says so quietly he can barely hear her over the movie.

"No, it's fine. I may not be a great cook, but I do know how to reheat a pizza."

She laughs a little at that, but something else is clearly on her mind.

"No, in...Somalia...I should have helped. Instead I was a dead freight." Tony ignores her mess-up, his eyes locked on her face as her eyes bore holes in the TV screen. "I...we barely escaped. If not for Gibbs, for Abby, for McGee and Ducky...my body would be rotting in that forsaken place." He wants to ask about himself, but again holds his tongue, sensing the time is not right. "And if not for you, you who has always had my back, I might have died before I even boarded the Damocles."

"Zi...I really am sorry. I-you loved him, didn't you?" He asks quietly. He had almost slipped and insensitively said 'I think it is better that he is gone, however."

She doesn't answer for a few minutes. When she does, it is first with a sigh, and, still without looking at him, she turns so that her back is to him, and slowly lets herself fall onto his chest. It is a bold move, especially for someone with Ziva's past.

"I do not know, Tony. He seemed...permanent...but he was not."

They are silent for a few more minutes as each contemplates his or her own thoughts and wonders what the other will say.

"About earlier," He begins, judging her reaction. She twists her neck to look at him in a sign to continue. He almost doesn't, seeing the barely guarded sad emotions in her eyes. But she is still strong, and will hear him out. "I...I shouldn't have left so abruptly. I just...it probably seemed like I ignored everything you said, didn't it? But I wanted to say that I did listen, I will always listen, and that I will always have your back. And..." he flashes back to that moment when her soft hand had rested on his neck, and her equally soft lips were pressed lightly to his cheek. All that he had done to return the gesture was hold the side of her head in his hand and then rush out.

'And what?' her eyes ask.

"And I never finished what you started," he ends. Leaning down a little, he gently kisses her widow's peak. At first, she tenses, but when she sees that he is not going for her lips, she relaxes somewhat.

Again there is silence in the room, but it is a comfortable silence, the silence of two people each grateful that the other is alive, if not completely well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS or any of the characters.

**A/N: **This isa one-shot in line with the previous chapter. A friend who read this asked me to do a songfic, so I did. This chapter is dedicated to Maddie.

Tony DiNozzo has a good movie playing on his widescreen TV, and he is ignoring it, again, even though it features some very good-looking women hanging out on a beach. This rare circumstance is due to an even better looking woman resting on his chest.

His arm rests along the top of the couch, and he loosely holds her hand in his. He runs his thumb along her knuckles and feels her breath slide past his neck as her head rests, turned to look at the TV, on his shoulder. Like he has done so much that night, he mulls over what she has said. And what he can say. He feels that they each feel that their individual self-quarrels have been mostly or at least temporarily resolved. Or maybe just _his_ problem has been resolved. He can tell by the way that the side of her face has this slightly thoughtful feel to it that she is still worried about something.

One of her phrases stands out in his head. "He seemed...permanent...but he was not." Does this imply that she wants someone permanent, who will be there and never leave? Or does she mean that Rivkin just seemed to be so many things that he was really not?

He tries to recall some of Rivkin's better qualities; he wasn't particularly good-looking, he wasn't trustworthy, he was _definitely_ not funny, and he was just as shady as Trent Kort. Of course, this is all through his, Tony's, eyes, and as unwilling as he is to admit it, he has a sort of biased view of the man. The one thing Rivkin had going for him was his choice in women. Ziva is certainly not someone a man would want to pass up on. And yet he, Tony, had, _is_, doing so.

Suddenly the credits begin to roll and he shakes his head to clear his thoughts, at least temporarily. A light snore emanates from the figure lying on his chest, and he has to suppress a smile. For the first time since they had returned from the Horn of Africa, she looks almost peaceful. And, if she has any larger load on her mind than he does, which is likely, then it is amazing that she could fall asleep at all. He certainly couldn't.

He doesn't want to wake her up, but his back is beginning to ache and he needs to move. He carefully turns himself so that she is lying across his arms, then he stands up and carries her like he would his only child into his bedroom. She shifts when he pulls the covers over her, and he could have sworn he heard her say his name. But she settles down, and he quietly retreats to the couch in his living room. He turns the TV off, grabs a blanket and a pillow from their place in the corner of the room, and gets as comfortable as he can on the couch. His brain hurts from thinking so hard and so much, but nothing can stop it from repeatedly analyzing their conversations. Oh well. Sleep will come…eventually.

Ziva David wakes up, glistening with sweat and breathing hard. Frantic eyes fly around the room, eyes that expect to see a grimy cell in the middle of the desert. But no, this is not the prison of so many months, it is someone's bedroom. It is modest, with the only furniture being a desk and chair, a nightstand, a dresser, and the bed she is currently lying in. Where is she?

She carefully gets out of the bed, expecting to be paralyzed by pain ripping across her back from a night of torture. But instead she only feels a dull, aching soreness. Where is she?

Her vision does not swim as she stands up, unlike as she had become accustomed to during the last few months. Then her gaze falls upon the silver device sitting in a cube-shaped dock on the nightstand. It is an iPod, exactly like the one Abby had given her so long ago.

She is in Tony's house.

Something draws her to the nightstand, as if she is a paperclip and it a giant magnet. One uncertain hand reaches out, and wakes the iPod. She gasps, and reflexively yanks her hand back when she sees the two words on the small screen.

_Ziva's Playlist_

She sits down on the edge of the bed and hesitantly presses the play button on the wheel. 

He wakes to the sound of soft violin music emanating from his bedroom. The previous night's events come flooding back to him as he clambers off of the couch and moves silently to the music's source. She has found his playlist, the playlist that has been the soundtrack to his life for the past few months. And she has also selected his favorite song, the one he has listened to every night as he sits in his bed, staring at a slideshow of pictures put together for him by Abby.  
>He eases the door open as the lyrics begin. <p>

There had been many different dogs on the playlist, including a few in Hebrew, but this one had caught her attention, and she had been listening to it several times in a row now.

_I can take the rain__  
><em>_On the roof of this empty house__  
><em>_That don't bother me__  
><em>_I can take a few tears__  
><em>_now and then__  
><em>_And just let em out_

The door had opened and a quiet voice had joined the one coming from the nightstand. She does not move, instead continuing to stare straight in front of her and let the words fill her mind, a small part of her wondering if the lyrics had a deeper meaning for the man who had risked his life for her.

_I'm not afraid to cry__  
><em>_Every once__  
><em>_In a while__  
><em>_Even though__  
><em>_Going on__  
><em>_With you gone__  
><em>_Still upsets me_

Yes, that small part decides. She can feel the raw emotion coming from the man standing in the doorway, singing softly to her. Unlimited sadness, pain, and the ring of truth. She opens her mouth slightly, and takes a deep, steadying, breath.

_There are days_, he begins.  
><em>Every now<em>, she joins in, almost inaudibly.  
><em>And again<em>, he continues.  
><em>I pretend<em>, she sings, a little more confidently this time.  
><em>I'm okay<em>, a shadow of a smile fades onto his face.  
><em>But that's a-not what gets me<em>, they sing together, confidence blossoming. 

Memories of forced smiles and poor attempts at behaving like his normal self flash in front of his vision, bringing back the worry and disappointment that preceded the tsunami of grief and despair.

They break into the chorus:

_What hurts the most__  
><em>_Was being so close__  
><em>_And having so much to say__  
><em>_And watching you walk away__  
><em>_And never knowing__  
><em>_What could've been__  
><em>_And not seeing that I'm loving you__  
><em>_Is what I was trying to do_

She flies back in time to a momentous event on the tarmac in Israel. She watches a man's retreating back, knowing that it represented many others who were being separated from her. The plane takes off, and she is left with a feeling of having reached a fork in the road of life, going down one of the paths, and looking over her shoulder, because she would never know what could have been had she gone the other way.

She sings the next verse on her own.

_It's hard to deal__  
><em>_With the pain of losin' you everywhere I go__  
><em>_But I'm doin' it__  
><em>

He takes the next few lines.

_It's hard to force that smile__  
><em>_When I see or old friends and I'm alone_

He remembers sympathetic glances and lousy attempts at cheering him up. McGee had tried to become that best friend that Ziva had been, and though Abby had done her best to be a light in the gloom, he could see right through it, see that she was in pain, too. Ziva and Abby had gotten closer before the Rivkin fiasco, and she almost felt as much pain as he did.

_Still harder_, he sings.  
><em>Getting up<em>, she continues.  
><em>Getting dressed<em>, he agrees.  
><em>Livin' with<em>, her voice has reached normal decibels.  
><em>This regret<em>, he sings, feeling that regret.  
><em>But I know if I could do it over<em>, their voices perfectly blend.

_I would trade_, he leads.  
><em>Give away<em>, she follows.  
><em>All the words<em>, his smile grows imperceptibly.  
><em>That I saved<em>, she still stares intently at the wall.  
><em>In my heart<em>, he feels those words burning inside of him.  
><em>That I'd a-left unspoken<em>, they join again.

With full confidence now, they perform the next verse, and she finally stands up to look at him.

_What hurts the most__  
><em>_Is being so close__  
><em>_And havin' so much to say__  
><em>_(Much to say)__  
><em>_And watchin' you walk away_

_And never knowin'__  
><em>_What could've been__  
><em>_And not seein' that I'm lovin' you__  
><em>_Is what I was tryin' to do, oh__  
><em>_Oh yeah__  
><em>

If his mind had not been filled with her face and her voice, he might have thought about how cliché this moment was, and how in the movies it usually led to the characters kissing. But neither he nor she has lived a typical life, and besides, if they had been ones for clichés, they would already be married.

He drops off for the next few lines to catch his breath.

_What hurts the most__  
><em>_Was being so close__  
><em>_And havin' so much to say__  
><em>_(To say_, he joins in a little bit_)__  
><em>_And watchin' you walk away__  
><em>

Their voices blend again, and a sad smile is now soft and present on his face.

___And never knowin'__  
><em>_What could've been__  
><em>_And not seein' that I'm lovin' you__  
><em>_Is what I was tryin' to do__  
><em>

He takes the last two lines solo.

_Not seein' that lovin' you__  
><em>_That's what I was trying to do._

He can see the tears glistening in her eyes, and realizes that the song must have drudged up painful memories to rival his. She had been doing her best to push those memories away and rebuild the fortress around her, and the song, the previous night, and the time they shared in the men's room had each been like mortar to her brittle walls. He opens his arms in a silent gesture, and she hesitates, but then slowly strides over to him, and lets him hold her.

He knows that she won't accept his help for long, that she will see it as a sign of weakness and pull away, but for now, he will be the friend that will always have her back.

**A/N:** So what do you think? Should I continue? And if I do, should I do just one more song, or have them stop the music? Thanks, and do not forget to **REVIEW! **(Also, I am now a beta-reader, so if you are looking for one, I would be glad to offer my services!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I think you all know by now that I do not own NCIS. I do not own Rascal Flatts or Nickelback, either.

**A/N: **Thank you so so so much for the favorites, alerts and reviews! I really enjoyed your reviews, **Robern**, **Limegreen**, **aquasm**, **tiva2121**, and **ForeignMusicLyrics**! I absolutely _loved _opening my e-mail to find my inbox filled with messages from FFN about alerts and all! Please keep it up, I love you guys! (Oh, and it is another songfic, asrequested by Maddie and tiva2121)

When the next song starts, she begins to slip out of his arms. "I should be going," she mumbles.

"Zi…" he says quietly. She is standing by the couch and turns to face him. He can't decide what to say, even though the song playing in the background is offering to finish his sentence. But no, he can't say that. He can't bring himself to say those words, when they are both so emotionally raw. "Thank you." He tries to pour everything on his mind into those two words, hoping that she will understand that she had been the light in his gloom last night, and that he deeply cares about her, and wants her to be happy and content.

He sees her bite her lip, also unsure what to say, before she just nods and leaves. Where to, he doesn't know, because she can't possibly have found a new apartment already, but he understands that she needs space and time to rebuild the walls that he so carefully broke down last night. He doesn't even notice as she closes the door behind her, though his eyes had followed her every movement as she left.

He turns his attention back to the music, and comes out of his trance enough to notice that the lyrics have already begun. He recognizes the song, decides it fits his mood, and moves to start it over.

_This time, This place__  
><em>_Misused, Mistakes__  
><em>_Too long, Too late__  
><em>_Who was I to make you wait__  
><em>_Just one chance__  
><em>_Just one breath__  
><em>_Just in case there's just one left__  
><em>_'Cause you know,__  
><em>_you know, you know_

__ He just listens, absorbed in thought. His almost exact thoughts from the past few months are once again displayed in song. He had waited too long to bring Rivkin in peacefully, waited too long to tell her what she already suspected, what she might've known.

_That I love you__  
><em>_I have loved you all along__  
><em>_And I miss you__  
><em>_Been far away for far too long__  
><em>_I keep dreaming you'll be with me__  
><em>_and you'll never go__  
><em>_Stop breathing if__  
><em>_I don't see you anymore___

Yes, he can admit to himself that he loves her, and knows, deep inside of him, that he has loved her all along, since that first comment about phone sex. And hell has he missed her, when she was gone, gone from him, from her life in America, from her friends and family in that little-known building in D.C. He'd been far away on the Ronald Reagan for far too long. She had changed while he was away, changed because of her mission, because of that bastard who was betraying her. And oh, the sweet dreams that had filled his sleep before he had found out about the demise of the Damocles. He had dreamed that he would wake up beside her, that he would look up from his paperwork and see her looking at him and smiling because she was glad to be with him. But then the dreadful news came, and he metaphorically stopped breathing because he would never see her again.

_On my knees, I'll ask__  
><em>_Last chance for one last dance__  
><em>_'Cause with you, I'd withstand__  
><em>_All of hell to hold your hand__  
><em>_I'd give it all__  
><em>_I'd give for us__  
><em>_Give anything but I won't give up__  
><em>_'Cause you know,__  
><em>_you know, you know___

He had withstood hell to avenge her death, at last been able to hold her hand. He'd do it again, give everything he had, every last one of his special edition movies and everything in his life, for them to be able to be together, whether at a crime scene or at their home, watching their kids run around outside with the dog. He will give everything, and never give up in order to bring her back.

The chorus repeats, and he softly joins in.

_That I love you__  
><em>_I have loved you all along__  
><em>_And I miss you__  
><em>_Been far away for far too long__  
><em>_I keep dreaming you'll be with me__  
><em>_and you'll never go__  
><em>_Stop breathing if__  
><em>_I don't see you anymore__  
><em>

_So far away__  
><em>_Been far away for far too long__  
><em>_So far away__  
><em>_Been far away for far too long__  
><em>_But you know, you know, you know___

_I wanted__  
><em>_I wanted you to stay__  
><em>_'Cause I needed__  
><em>_I need to hear you say__  
><em>_That I love you__  
><em>_I have loved you all along__  
><em>_And I forgive you__  
><em>_For being away for far too long__  
><em>_So keep breathing__  
><em>_'Cause I'm not leaving you anymore__  
><em>_Believe it__  
><em>_Hold on to me and, never let me go__  
><em>_Keep breathing__  
><em>_'Cause I'm not leaving you anymore__  
><em>_Believe it__  
><em>_Hold on to me and, never let me go__  
><em>_Keep breathing__  
><em>_Hold on to me and, never let me go__  
><em>_Keep breathing__  
><em>_Hold on to me and, never let me go__  
><em>

Unmanly tears sting his eyes, and he falls onto his bed, which still smells like her. He needs to hear her say those words, he needs to hear _himself _say those words. He hopes that she forgives him, that she can keep him breathing and that they can support each other and never let each other go.

God, he loves her. He just needs to tell her.

**A/N: **I know, I know, it is really short! And maybe slightly OOC. But it was difficult to write, and I really really really need to know whether you guys want one more song. I have found one that I think is slightly different from the ones I have been using, but will really fit with what I am trying to do in the story, or if I should just write a songless cliché chapter.

So since I really need answers, if you guys can give me at least THREE more reviews that solve my dilemma (one last song vs. cliché no-song), then I will post really soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS or any of their characters.

When Ziva gets back to her rental car, she just curls up in the front seat, her heart racing and mind spinning in circles.

Had he really felt like that…does the song mean what she thinks it means…and she had sung it as well…does she really feel this way too…no, she cannot, not already…this was the man who had killed Michael, even though she now knows that Michael had been willing to betray her…

Images flash in front of her eyes as she finally sits properly in the seat and starts the engine.

Just inches apart, her back is pressed against the couch, and their feet touching…watching the movie, her head lays on his chest and he holds her hand in his…he _kisses _her, he kisses her on the head…clinging to him as the song ended…

To anyone who knew her, they would see that her driving is even crazier than it normally is as she speeds her way to that building with nasty orange dividers, the one place she could once really call home.

He knows where she has gone, she can be so predictable that way. He knows for a fact that she has not found somewhere to stay yet, and in her current state, she will not want to go to anybody's house. So that leaves just one place.

The sun has just barely started to shine its light on the D.C. streets, giving the foggy morning a peaceful glow. But he pays no attention to this as he guides his car into the nearest parking spot, and calmly enters through the front door, though his heart races with nervousness and uncertainty.

The elevator must have finally given in to Gibbs's frequent stops and starts, for it does not come when he calls for it, forcing him to take the stairs.

He sprints up the stairs two at a time, a feat that he can accomplish thanks to the hours spent at the gym in preparation for his suicide mission. He slows when he reaches the fifth floor, where the desk with the Mighty Mouse stapler resides. He finds that it is a good thing he took the stairs, for the ding of the elevator would probably have startled her.

She is standing at the window, staring out into nothingness, with her hands thrust into her pant pockets. He stops at the threshold for a moment, watching her.

The same shirt and pants as yesterday, but she has taken out the ponytail and let the curls cascade over her shoulders. Her stance is one of slight defeat, as if she had lost a difficult game in the last second. It is very un-Ziva-like, this defeated and dark presence. Normally, she would light up the room with a big smile and rich laughter, though it was sometimes with a messed-up idiom or a death threat.

He takes the long way around the bullpen, staying out of her line of sight. When he is a meter away, she still hasn't moved. Typically, her ninja-senses would have gone off and he would have a knife whizzing past his ear or a sharp retort about not trying to be sneaky, if she was in a good mood.

He pulls the box out of his pocket, and takes out the item inside, the item he had searched for in three stores on the way here. He slips the now-empty box back in his pocket and takes the final step towards her, so that only inches separate them. He holds his breath, and uses one hand to gently push her hair away from her neck.

She flips into full assassin-mode. A hand snaps up and grabs the wrist that had been moving her hair, holding it in place. But he isn't intimidated, and doesn't stop moving the other hand as he places one end of the gift in the trapped hand and takes the other end in his free hand around her neck. When the cool metal pendant touches her skin, she realizes what he is doing, relaxing her grip on his wrist and allowing him to finish the job.

However, she remains facing out the window, and for a while, they stand there together, just as they would if they are observing a Gibbs interrogation; closer than absolutely necessary, yet far enough apart to be somewhat professional. It is a tantalizing game they liked to play.

She isn't quite sure what the necklace symbolizes. Does it mean what she thinks it means? Or is it just another kind of thing a friend and partner would do?

"Thank you, Tony," she says when she finally turns to look at him.

"Anything for you," he replies with a grin and a fake accent she supposes is from some movie. Those who can't read his eyes would say that he is teasing. But she knows better. His eyes are more sincere than the joking mask that he always wears.

She waits a moment to phrase her question. "Tony," she begins. His grin fades to a soft smile, an almost exact replica of the one he had worn earlier, in the bedroom. "What are we?"

Will he answer her truthfully, or avoid the question like he had when she mentioned soul mates, she wonders. He seems to have been expecting the question.

"We're partners. Friends. Co-workers. Federal agents." He is avoiding a personal question again, and she feels her heart break when she realizes he hasn't changed from that commitment-wary, unsure person she walked away from in Israel. But then he grows serious, as the smile disappears completely, and he reaches out a hand to finger the Star of David around her neck. "And whatever you want us to be."

Her heart mends and her hope soars. And then she thinks, is this what I really want? A relationship with a man with a reputation as a player, a jokester and…

A new reputation as an all-around compassionate guy who would go to the ends of the earth to save her.

So with a slight smile, she tilts her head up, raises a little on her toes, puts her hand on the side of his head, and kisses him. And not on his cheek this time.

As they kiss, slowly yet passionately, in his head he adds another description to the list: _Soul mates._

**A/N:** I didn't want an author's note clogging up the beginning of this last chapter, but yeah, here is the last chapter. It was a tie between song vs. no-song, and I decided to go no-song just because it ended up working out better. _But_, I know how to use the song in another fic I am writing, a tag to Pyramid (that awful season finale!).

So yeah, this particular tag is over, and I would _love _reviews, as always. If you have any requests for me, include those as well, please. I HOPE YOU ENJOYED MY STORY!


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